Silhouette in Scarlet

afflicts me in times of stress. He flung back the covers and swung the rest of his body into the bed. I yelped. His feet were bare, and as cold and clammy as those of a corpse.

‘Louder and faster,’ said my seducer. I obliged with a series of shrieks, ranging from ‘Rape’ to ‘Fire.’ The response was gratifyingly prompt. It was nice to know I need not fear being raped or set on fire in that house. Killed, maybe, but not sexually molested or immolated.

Rudi was the first to arrive. He had the presence of mind to switch on the light. Max and Leif were right behind him; they all stared. John had his hand over my mouth, to keep me from laughing, and I was wriggling as I tried to get his elbow out of my stomach.

I squirmed out from under him and sat up. His dark slacks and sweater were dry, but his skin had the slimy dankness of a fish’s scales. When I saw Leif’s face I stopped laughing. He came at the bed in a rush. I bounded up and threw myself in front of John, who had prudently retired into the farthest-possible corner. He made no attempt to prevent me.

The bed, and Max’s shout, brought Leif to a stop. Veins bulged in his forehead. ‘I will kill him,’ he said quietly.

‘Not you,’ Max corrected. ‘Where is that stupid . . . Hans!’

Hans was stuck in the window. Lacking the sense to turn sideways, he just stood there grunting and shoving. Max pointed out his options, in words that clanked like ice cubes, and Hans climbed into the room. His cheek was bleeding freely from a long row of parallel scratches. His face went blank with disbelief when he saw John.

‘How did he get here?’

‘I was about to ask you the same question,’ Max said through his teeth.

Now that the tension had subsided somewhat, John considered that it was safe to come out from behind my skirts.

‘He turned his back for a few moments,’ he said, with a patronizing smile. ‘That was all I needed.’

‘You turned your back?’ Max said to Hans.

Hans turned pink, like an embarrassed baby. He had very fair skin. ‘Aber Herr Max – die Dame war hier im Zimmer, und da war das Fenster, und wenn sie aus dem Fenster geschaut hatte . . .’

‘That shows a delicate mind, Hans,’ I said. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘Und,’ Hans went on, indignation replacing modesty, ‘die Katze hat mich – ’

‘Herr Gott allmachtigf!’ Max shouted. Then he got a grip on himself and inquired carefully, ‘How long ago did this – turning of your back occur?’

‘Not long, Herr Max, not long at all. Only a few moments ago.’

‘Hmph.’ Max’s frown lessened a trifle. ‘Then no great harm has been done. However, I grow weary of Mr Smythe’s frivolities. I think the time has come – ’ He paused, his eyes moving deliberately over each of us in turn. My mouth went dry. ‘Max,’ I said.

‘Hans,’ Max said.

John tried to get behind me again. Hans’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder and yanked him out into the open.

‘Take him into the cellar,’ Max said.

John’s face turned a pale shade of green. His complexion was the only part of him he couldn’t control; when he spoke, his voice was steady. ‘Don’t do anything you might regret, Max.’

‘I thought as much.’ Max folded his arms. ‘You have information.’

‘A tidbit or two. I’ve been saving them for an emergency. It appears,’ John said wryly, ‘that the emergency is upon me. I’m ready for a trade.’

‘You are in no position to bargain. The cellar, Hans.’

‘You’ll get no cooperation from me if you go through with this, Max,’ I said. My voice was not at all steady.

‘I regret.’ Max gestured. Hans transferred his grip to John’s arm and shoved him towards the door. The audience had grown to include Georg, who had observed the proceedings with a singularly unattractive smile.

‘I’ll come along,’ he said, baring a few more teeth. ‘I would enjoy watching.’

‘Georg!’ his brother exclaimed.

‘Watching is about all you’re capable of doing,’ John said rudely. ‘You ineffectual, effeminate, impotent junkie.’

He could have avoided the blow. Georg telegraphed his punch, and his coordination was shot to hell. In fact, it appeared to me that at the last moment John leaned into it. Georg’s fist landed on his cheekbone and John went limp, as gracefully as Errol Flynn in the grasp of the Inquisition.

I sat down. There didn’t seem to be anything else I could do.

I should have worn the rest of the night away pacing and wringing my hands. Actually, my eyes closed the minute I lay down, and I slept like a baby. The weather may have been partially responsible. When I woke, the room was in shadow; clouds hung heavy in the sky and a sharp wind snapped the curtains.

I rolled over and reached for the hard object that was poking into my hip. It was a round, squat bottle, made of dark plastic and carrying a pharmacist’s label. ‘Multivitamins,’ the label said. I shook it experimentally. There was no rattle of capsules, only the shifting of some nonliquid substance.

Thoughtfully I tucked the bottle into my bra and pulled on a heavy sweater to hide the bulge. By the time I was ready to appear in public, my imagination had gotten into gear, and I was feeling . . . Well, let’s say I felt a little queasy. It wasn’t hard to figure out what John was up to; he would remain resolutely unconscious as long as possible and dribble out his information as slowly as was compatible with safety. He was trying to gain time. I hoped his plan had worked.

I found him in the kitchen scrambling eggs, and I am not ashamed to admit that I was relieved to see him. On the counter beside him was the cat, eating bacon with the insolence of a creature who knows he is under official protection. I might have known John’s attempt to woo the cat with kidneys had an ulterior motive. He had used it, quite cold-bloodedly, to complete the distraction of Hans, but it really hadn’t been in danger; a big, stupid man is no match for an angry feline, especially when the big, stupid man knows his boss has a weakness for pussycats. Hans was still nursing a grudge. He fingered the scratches on his cheek as he glowered at the cat.

They were all there, even Georg and Leif – sitting at the table waiting for breakfast The condemned man was not eating a hearty meal, he was cooking it for the executioners.

I said, ‘Good morning,’ and John turned. I examined him critically.

‘You got off easier than I expected,’ I said.

‘Most of the bruises are in places that don’t show,’ John explained. ‘How about slicing some bacon?’

I took the knife. His wrist was swollen to twice normal size, and turning a pretty shade of purple.

‘Let me do that,’ Leif said, as I leaned into the slab of bacon. I handed over the knife. ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked tenderly.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’ John glared at me. I went on, ‘I take it you have arrived at an agreement.’

‘Oh, right,’ John said. ‘I’ve agreed to show them where the loot is buried and they have agreed to cut my throat. Amiable arrangement, isn’t it?’

‘I will keep my promise, Dr Bliss,’ Max said. ‘In a few hours you will be free of us.’

The stench of burning eggs filled the kitchen. John dumped them onto a platter with such vigour that fragments flew all around. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, Max, my lad,’ he said. ‘As I told you, I’m no surveyor. The calculations are going to take a little time.’

‘As much time as you can manage,’ Max said with a sneer. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, my friend. Dr Hasseltine will be happy to assist you in your calculations.’

Georg, devouring burned eggs with the relish of a man whose taste buds are dead and buried, looked up. Apparently he had not been present during the interrogation after all, for he asked, ‘You know the bearings?’

‘Rough ones,’ John replied. ‘My informant didn’t have equipment with him; he had to estimate.’

‘Naturally,’ Georg said. ‘To obtain accurate measurements on such uneven terrain, one would need levels, transit and tripod, plumb bob . . . I can perhaps rig some sort of makeshift substitute.’

‘That would be most accommodating of you,’ Max said. ‘And the sooner we begin, the sooner we will be finished.’